The Truth About Fairytales
by lollapalozzafanatic83
Summary: Rebekah and Marcel were in love all their lives. When they finally marry and expect the perfect ending to their fairytale, circumstances arise and it tears them apart. Three years later, they are brought together by fate with the decision to either rewrite the ending of their fairytale or to end it for good. A/H, A/U Rebekah/ Marcel, with a little Caroline/Klaus
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries/The Originals or their characters. I'm just using my own creative license to play with them.

Chapter 1

"I need two bowls of jambalaya and bell peppers, onions and celery chopped for shrimp gumbo," Marcel Gerard requested of his sous chefs. Murmurs of "yes boss" reached his ears and he smirked. He would never get tired of hearing that. Just like every night, business was booming with tourists wanting to sample all that New Orleans had to offer. Marcel had no intention of disappointing.

"Hey, Marcel," one of his servers, Ashley, said flirtingly, "are my table's Po boys ready?" Ashley was a notorious man-eater and a flirt, borderline unprofessional. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on opinion, she was an excellent server to the high rolling tourists. Marcel flashed her a grin and placed the fish Po boys on the window.

"Here it is, Ash."

Ashley fluttered her eyelashes at him as she retrieved her order. "When are you going to take me up on my offer? I think we could have a really great time together…" she trailed off suggestively.

Marcel rolled his eyes, sighed and continued to chop shrimp. _This _was the reason he had issues with Ashley. "Ashley, I've told you. I don't date my employees."

"So fire me."

Marcel put the knife down, exasperated. Behind him, he could hear the snickers of the other chefs. "Don't you have Po boys to deliver?" She flashed him a flirty smile and left the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Marcel frowned. Ashley was fairly new to town so she probably hadn't heard all of the rumors, but Marcel was sure one of the others would take it upon themselves to inform her. It wasn't just that he didn't date employees, which he didn't. He just also didn't date anyone. Looking at the ring on the ring finger of his left hand, he mused that explaining his absentee wife wasn't exactly something that he wanted to do the night before his anniversary.

Or ever.

* * *

Rebekah Mikaelson—_Rebekah Mikaelson Gerard_, her inner voice reminded her—could not sleep. October 25th marked her fifth year anniversary to a husband she had not set eyes on in three years. If only they were happy. Or together…or in the same state.

She rolled over to look at the clock. _2:59 am_. Her upstate New York apartment felt especially cold in the wake of the memories that consumed her. She was plagued with thoughts of a happier time, of a time where the princess got her prince and they lived happily ever after.

_Yeah, well, they don't tell what happens after happily ever after_, she thought bitterly. Fairytales were for children, told by parents so they stave off the inevitable: growing up and realizing the world wasn't all that it claimed to be. Cinderella never showed the real ending, the heartache and pain and blame…

Shaking off her morose thoughts, she rolled over to look at the clock again. The red digits proclaimed that it had only been a minute. _The witching hour_, her mind supplied ominously. If just to confirm her thoughts, the phone rang. Rebekah leaned over to switch the light by her bed on and answer the phone.

"Hello?" Her voice was hoarse from sleep and she was wary. Nothing good could come from a phone call so early in the morning.

"It's me Rebekah," her brother answered as if she couldn't tell. He was one of the few people who still called the landline.

"What is it, Elijah?"

"It's Finn…he's passed, Rebekah. You must come home immediately."

_Home? _She was in shock as tears immediately filled her eyes, both from grief and fear of what Elijah had demanded. She _was _home. She vowed she would never return to New Orleans. Not after all the heartache and blame and pain, the stuff fairytales were _not _made of. Not after…

But this was her older brother who had died, not a stranger. And though she was not particularly close to him, it was her obligation to be there for the rest of the family. They all helped when she went through her period of grief. She might have turned tail and left New Orleans, but she was stronger now. She could handle it. She _would _handle it.

"Rebekah?" Elijah questioned, probably wondering if she had hung up on him like she was prone to do.

Squaring her shoulders, she made the decision that would reopen the storybook and its consequential wounds. "I'll be there in the morning."

A.N. I'd like to dedicate this first chapter to two of my roommates, Naya and Nelly who encouraged me to get started and enjoy being my pre-readers. Thanks Naya for also being my beta reader and fixing all my comma mistakes. This first chapter is short but the others get a lot longer. Please review with comments.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Marcel enjoyed owning his own restaurant. Years ago, when he was just a chef in someone's franchise, he worked outrageous hours, constantly striving to prove himself as a true artist in the kitchen.

_That's the reason why she left_. Marcel stopped his train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past and contemplating what ifs. He busied himself with cutting vegetables for the lunch and dinner crowds.

"Marcel, you wanker. Come out here. You can't expect me to drink alone." Marcel rolled his eyes as he heard the voice of his best friends, investor, and brother-in-law on paper. Niklaus Mikaelson had been his best friend for years. He had a habit of using his key and showing up when the restaurant was closed for what Klaus called "stimulating conversation" but what Marcel knew was just an excuse to day drink.

Putting the knife down and wiping his hands off with a dishtowel, Marcel left the kitchen to head to the main floor. At the bar sat Klaus, two shot glasses filled to brim and a bottle of bourbon in front of him. Klaus took one shot and then the other.

"Whoa! You're starting off early today." Marcel clapped on the back and laughed until he saw Klaus' face. His eyes were red-rimmed from holding back tears. "What's going on, man?"

"Finn's dead," Klaus answered bluntly, pouring two more shots.

"Shit." Marcel closed his eyes at the announcement and took the seat next to Klaus.

"My sentiments exactly." Klaus passed one of the shots to Marcel before tossing the other one back. It was typical Klaus to try to use alcohol to avoid his feelings. Knowing there was no way to stop him, Marcel joined him, allowing the burn of the alcohol to dull his own emotion so that he could be there for his brother in everything but blood.

After practically living with the Mikaelsons after his mother's death at the age of seventeen, the siblings had become the family that Marcel had always wanted. He mourned with them the death of the youngest, Henrik, and sat with the family at their father's funeral. Despite what happened between Marcel and their baby sister, it rarely interfered with Marcel's relationship with the brothers.

"How did it happen?" Marcel asked. He was wary of Klaus when he was in this mood. The Mikaelsons were notorious for their tempers…

_Especially…_

"Heart attack. Which makes no bloody sense. He was only thirty-seven." Klaus kept drinking heavily. Marcel wasn't too shocked. Finn drank and smoked, had high blood pressure, and refused to take his blood pressure medicine.

As if reading his thoughts, Klaus continued. "I know he wasn't the best at…restraint…but it doesn't make it any less shocking."

"Yeah, man, I know. How's Sage?" Finn's wife was madly in love with her husband. Everyone joked that if Finn died, then Sage was sure to follow, a possibility that now seemed almost inevitable.

Klaus snorted into his drink. There was no love lost between Sage and the other Mikaelsons for some reason that Marcel wasn't aware of. "Drinking straight from the bottle and chain smoking her lungs away. She's barely functioning. Rebekah's over there—"

"Rebekah's in town?" Marcel gaped at Klaus, his chest hurting at the mention of her name. "When were you going to tell me this exactly?"

"Calm down, mate. She got in this morning." Klaus continued to drink. In his inebriated state, he was unable to see the issue of Rebekah's return in relation to Marcel.

Marcel poured himself another drink. _Of course _Rebekah would return. Finn was her brother after all. He just assumed that he would have more notice of her impending arrival, maybe enough time to get away so she didn't see him, see how pathetic and broken she had left him. Catching the light coming through the windows, Marcel's silver wedding band felt like it weighed a ton.

Of all the days Finn had picked to die.

* * *

"Thanks for this, Rebekah." Sage shakily took a sip from her coffee cup. "I know I'm not your favorite person…"

Rebekah snorted unladylike. "Well, a lot of people don't fall under the category of 'favorite'," she quipped with a sympathetic smile. Rebekah arrived to Finn's house only to find that her brother's wife, after dropping her kids off at her mother's, had chain smoked three packs of cigarettes, finished half a bottle of whiskey, and was passed out on the sofa.

"I'll leave you to handle this," Klaus said and he left with so much as a 'see you later.' After literally throwing Sage into a freezing cold shower and holding her hair back as she vomited up her insides, Rebekah wondered how anything had gotten handled during her hiatus in New York.

"Still it matters. That you came, I mean." Sage looked pale, her hair was a mess and yet she was looking at Rebekah with such pity. "After everything you've been through—"

"It's in the past." Rebekah cut her off and glared at the woman. She had no intention of having a heart-to-heart with Sage. Especially not after what she'd said back then.

But Sage couldn't be deterred. "If I had gone through what you had been through…" Sage's eyes filled with tears, her earlier intake of alcohol still affecting her. "After what I said to you, how you deserved to—"

"It's. In. The. Past." Rebekah swallowed thickly. _This _was why she abhorred Sage. She never knew when to shut her mouth.

Sage sniffled wetly. "I guess this is my punishment." Rebekah stiffened and rose from her seat on the couch.

"I'm going to get more tea." When she reached the kitchen, Rebekah sighed and leaned against the counter. Being back in New Orleans put the weight that she tried to escape from back on her shoulders. Tears pooled in her eyes. Why had she bothered to come back? They could have very well buried Finn without her. What if she ran into _him_? What would she say to him? What would he say to her?

What if he had moved on with his life when she was unable to do so?

"Rebekah?" Sage had come into the kitchen hesitantly. Rebekah hastily wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape before turning around. "Your mother wants us to meet her at this restaurant in the square. We could just walk if that's okay with you."

"I'll be right behind you," Rebekah said with a curve of the lips. It was a pathetic attempt at a smile, Rebekah knew, but Sage didn't seem to notice, her eyes faraway. Rebekah wouldn't allow for anyone to see her at a weak moment.

* * *

"Mrs. Mikaelson? What are you doing at my restaurant?" Marcel was taken aback at the presence of his still technical mother-in-law at the door. Marcel had closed the restaurant for the day so that he could deal with his best friend. Klaus passed out drunk on top of the bar would not ease the tension between Marcel and his mother-in-law.

She pushed her way passed him as she spoke. "Well, I saw the closed sign was still up and I figured you had heard about Finn, which meant that Klaus was probably here…" Esther pursed her lips in disapproval. Marcel wasn't fooled.

"Let's try that again, Esther. Why are you here?" To say that Esther Mikaelson didn't care for Marcel was an understatement. All she saw was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who her children had somehow taken a shine to. Neither she nor Mikael had been over the moon when he married their daughter, but they learned to ignore him for her sake. What their little girl wanted, she always got.

_Except the happily ever after, _he thought bitterly. Thinking about her always seemed to bring out the worst in him.

"—coming here." While Marcel had gotten lost in his thoughts, Esther had been talking.

"Wait, what? Who's coming here?"

"Rebekah and—" Esther said matter-of-factly. Marcel heard nothing else.

_Rebekah. Rebekah. Rebekah. Rebekah…_

* * *

A.N. Thank you to those who've followed this story and reviewed. I will try to post once a week, maybe on Mondays. Please review with questions or what you would like to see happen in the story. Even though I have the majority of the story planned, I would still like input. Thanks again to Naya for fixing my mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. With finals coming up it seems that all of the professors have decided to give the very last tests at the very last moment. Thank you to all of you that are following this story but I would really love to hear from more of you about what you're thinking. Reviews give me encouragement!

Chapter 3—Flashback

As he stepped outside the airport into the sweltering heat, Marcel felt apprehensive about being back in New Orleans. After spending three years in New Orleans studying culinary, his first time being back made things seem, in his eyes, more magnificent and over the top. Even the air was different. Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet against the pavement waiting for—

"Marcel! You bloody wanker! Get your arse in the car, mate." His best friend, Klaus contributed nicely to the dramatics of New Orleans. A honk accompanied the yelling and Marcel couldn't help but smile. It felt weird but it was good to be home.

As they drove to Klaus' family home where Marcel would be spending his summer, Klaus regaled his best friend with the escapades he had gotten up to in school.

"I'm telling you, mate. You should have seen this girl. Brunette, petite, arse and tits to die for…she'll be the future mother of my children for sure."

"What'd you say her name was again?"

"Who the hell knows? Paisley? Bailey? Something of that nature." Marcel laughed. Klaus was a notorious womanizer but Marcel was sure that one day he would meet his match.

Soon, Marcel saw the famous Mikaelson Manor. The Mikaelsons obviously had money and their home and the surrounding grounds reflected that. As they pulled up the driveway, Marcel saw a flash of yellow. A leggy blonde was walking to the front door, her short blue dress teasing at what was underneath.

Marcel whistled low under is breath. "Now who is _that_?"

"Who's what?" Klaus looked confused.

"The blonde in blue, man. Is she a 'friend' of yours? Because I don't do sloppy seconds." Upon receiving no answer, Marcel looked at his friend, who looked like he was about to be sick. "What?"

"Mate, that's my sister."

Marcel gaped at the blonde again. "That's _Rebekah_?" Marcel couldn't believe it, but upon seeing the car coming up the drive, she had turned back to greet them. In the privacy of the tinted windows, Marcel was able to eye her without her knowledge. With the knowledge of her identity, Marcel was could see the resemblance to the thirteen-year-old girl he had left behind. The icy blue eyes were the same, as were the dimples in the cheeks, but the lips were fuller, her face had lost its roundness, and _surely _her legs hadn't been so long…

A slap to the back of the head drew Marcel out of his musings. "Ow," he said grabbing his head and looking at his fuming best friend. "What the fuck was that for?"

"That's my _sister_, you arsehole. Keep your eyes and hands to yourself before you lose them." Klaus stepped out of the car. "And wipe your chin. You're drooling."

Marcel banged his head against the headrest. The Mikaelsons always got him in trouble and if he didn't watch it, history would repeat itself. Checking his chin for drool, Marcel exited the car to the squealing and hugging of a _very _grown up Rebekah.

_Oh boy_, he thought as she jumped up and down against him. _This is going to be a long summer…_

About midsummer, Marcel was torn between wanting to stay in New Orleans and wanting to run far, far, _far_ away. Being back in New Orleans was great: the sun, the city, and the lively music. It was truly the city that never slept. However, it felt like Rebekah Mikaelson had been possessed by the devil himself. She was pulling out the stops to torture him and as much as he didn't want to go there for fear of what Klaus—and the other brothers—would do to him, it was a delicious type of torture.

He had seen Rebekah in various states of undress, short jean shorts that showed off long, shapely legs, crop tops that exposed a tan, flat stomach, and once even her underwear, after she proposed they go skinny dipping and proceeded to strip. But every time Rebekah showed up in an outfit more revealing than the last, Klaus would shoot a warning glance at Marcel and it was enough to temporarily erase any wayward thoughts.

Unfortunately as he lay in the guest room at night, images of the day's outfit fluttered in his mind and Marcel did his best to will his hard on away. But with all the smooth skin Marcel had been getting his fill of, there was no way to calm himself. Thinking that maybe a glass of milk would help him sleep, he got up to head downstairs to the kitchen.

Sitting at the counter was the object of his fantasies, eating cereal in an oversized sweatshirt that left one tantalizing shoulder bare.

_Shit_, he thought and inwardly groaned. The small amount of skin showing did wild things to his libido.

"Can't sleep?" She smiled a sweet smile at him, wavy hair framing her face.

Marcel cleared his throat. "Um…no. Too many thoughts running through my mind."

"Any of those thoughts about me?"

Marcel stiffened and realization flooded his system. The little…minx knew what she was doing to him. He gaped at her, her cheeks were red with embarrassment but her chin was held high without apology.

He couldn't help but grin and shake his head. He had to hand it to her. She was devious and determined. "A few of them," he admitted, sitting down on the barstool next to her, his glass of milk forgotten. Her smile widened as she stood in front of him, her bare knees touching his clothed ones.

It was the most contact they'd had since he first arrived and it sent an electric current through him.

"I would like very much for you to kiss me." Marcel almost choked. This new, bold side of Rebekah just kept on surprising him.

"Rebekah, I don't think Klaus would like that very much." _Klaus wouldn't like it at all_, Marcel corrected himself.

"Do you always do what Klaus tells you?" It was a diabolical move from a sixteen-year-old girl, but Rebekah had more than proved herself to be beyond her age.

"No…but he's your brother. And he's my best friend."

"As your best friend, he should want to see you happy."

Marcel was amused. "And you think you could make me happy?"

"We'll just have to see now, won't we?" Rebekah pressed herself closer to him and Marcel stood, his 6-foot-4-inches towering over her 5-foot-6-inches. They were chest-to-chest and every breath that Rebekah expelled, Marcel breathed in, the heady smell of her going to his head.

He touched her face, tucking a hair behind her ear, and she nuzzled her face into his hand and closed her eyes. There was no denying that he wanted her. Badly. But his friendship with Klaus warred with his own desires. He was confused. Grasping her other cheek gently, Marcel planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Good night, Rebekah," he whispered, sidestepping her—and temptation—and jogging up the stairs, his lips tingling from touching her skin.

Months later, when he had gone back to Rhode Island, Klaus called him to vent about catching Rebekah in a compromising position with a guy from her school. The brothers had gone out of their way to torture the boy as he ran out of the house, clutching his clothes to his privates. Marcel felt a tinge of envy at the guy who had gotten to be with Rebekah in that way but he was relieved that he was able to maintain his composure and keep his friendship with the Mikaelsons. No matter how much Rebekah drove him wild with her outfits and affectionate gestures, he knew nothing good could come from getting involved with a Mikaelson.

A.N. Please do not forget to review!


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. Thanks again for the reviews! Every comment means the world to me. Thanks again to Naya for beta reading. I hope you guys REALLY enjoy this one.

Warning: Lemon-like scene.

Chapter 4

_Well this is awkward_, Rebekah thought as she walked down the street, Sage by her side. It seemed the closer they got to the square, the more heads peered outside their shops to stare at the runaway Mikaelson whore.

It wasn't until they had entered the square that Rebekah remembered she had no idea where they were going. "Sage? Where are we meeting Mother?"

Sage stopped in her tracks, a horrified look in her eyes. "Oh God, Rebekah. I'm so sorry! I was so wrapped up in my issues, I didn't even think…" Her gaze turned to the building in front of them and Rebekah followed her gaze.

_Rebekah's_, the sign proclaimed the name of the restaurant to be and Rebekah felt all the color drain from her face.

"No, no, no…" Rebekah said backing away slowly. Panic flooded her system as she tried to make her getaway. She wasn't ready! She thought she would have time to adjust to being back in New Orleans before jumping feet first from the pan into the fire.

Sage grabbed her by the arm. "You cann_ot_ leave me alone with your mother! Not when she's been practically blaming me for Finn's death." Sage paused and sighed. "Listen. You were bound to see him anyway. He's still very much family, despite what happened between you two. What's better? Seeing him now where you can at least get away if you have to or seeing him at Finn's funeral?" After staring at Sage and realizing that the selfish bitch wasn't going to let her out of the situation, Rebekah squared her shoulders in determination.

_In and out_, she told herself. Meet up with her mother and leave to make final preparations was the goal. She could handle it.

* * *

After stepping through the door to the restaurant, her eyes immediately locked onto his. It was weird seeing him after so long. Her breath caught in her throat because it seemed that her memories had not done him justice at all. Her mind was only able to capture a foggy misrepresentation of him—not the way his broad shoulders were accentuated by his t-shirt or the depth of emotion she saw in his eyes or the way he smelled…

Heat curled in her belly at the scent that she could smell from across the room and that seemed to permeate the air. She swayed slightly, lightheaded at the feelings that arose from seeing him—_Marcel_, her inner self supplied—gave her. She couldn't bring herself to look away, and he seemed to have the same problem. His eyes roamed her body slowly, as if to find any difference from three years ago. Rebekah flushed when his eyes, dark with what she recognized as lust met her own. Just like before, her own rush of arousal answered his question and Rebekah knew that if he laid a finger on her she would surely spontaneously combust.

Esther cleared her throat and Rebekah jumped. The spell was broken, Marcel's eye slid from her gaze to her mother coolly and Rebekah felt bereft of warmth with the loss of his gaze. "Now that we're all here, I say we give these two some privacy." Through it was worded as a suggestion, everyone knew it was more of a demand.

"Mother…" Rebekah started, wrapping her arms around herself. How was she supposed to handle being alone with him?

"No, Rebekah." Esther's tone left no room for arguments. "The two of you have endured this limbo for three years now. Quite frankly it's ridiculous, Rebekah. You two need to sort out the details of your divorce and move on with your lives."

_Divorce? _In all the time that Rebekah had been separated from her husband, divorce had never had been an option. Glancing at her estranged husband, she saw he had his poker face on. But time had not erased the intimate knowledge Rebekah had of him. His face was impassive but his fists were clenched against his folded arms and his body was stiff, leaving Rebekah with the impression that divorce had not been on the table for him either.

"All I'm saying is that it's time to draw this fiasco to an end. Rebekah, you had your fun but now it's time to grow up and find someone with a real aspiration." Esther left through the front doors, and as she dragged a drunken Klaus with her, Sage shot Rebekah an apologetic glance.

Holding herself tighter, Rebekah turned a wary glance at him. They were alone and Rebekah was waiting for the barrage of questions that she could not answer.

* * *

It took all that Marcel had in him not to grab her and either shake her or make love to her, begging her not to leave him again. She was looking at him as if she _expected_ him to shake her, her blue eyes wary.

He had forgotten the effect she had on him, how just a look from her could have him at half-mast and crazy in lust with her. Even with suspicion in her eyes, his blood grew hot in his veins and his fingertips tingled in arousal.

"Rebekah—" he started, his voice strained and deep, her name foreign on his tongue.

"I'm sorry about my mother," she interrupted. Marcel snorted at her attempt to delay the inevitable.

"I'm well aware of what Esther thinks of me. She's not the one with the power to hurt me." It was a petty jab, Marcel knew it, as he watched tears flood her eyes, but he didn't care. Rebekah didn't deserve his patience, not after the way she left.

Ignoring her, he went back to the bar, pouring a shot of what Klaus had been drinking and taking it. Drinking definitely wouldn't help him with his control but it took the edge off. The sunset came through the front window, casting Rebekah in an ethereal glow. He was choked up with emotion. He was still so in love with her. And temporarily the reasons why she left him didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was there and he wanted her. Coming from behind the bar, he walked until he stopped right in front of her. He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her.

* * *

It was a bruising kiss that Rebekah didn't expect. Despite the fact that Marcel would never raise a hand to a woman, she half expected him to hurt her. So the kiss had caught her off guard and she gasped into it. He used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Rebekah moaned embarrassingly but his answering groan sent tingles down her spine. She wrapped one arm around his neck, the other snaking around his waist. Her fingertips snuck under his t-shirt touching bare skin tentatively and he moaned into her mouth again. Freeing one hand from her hand he gripped her bottom hard. Rebekah's body remembered this dance and she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Marcel broke the kiss to trail licks and nips down her neck as he led her to a nearby table. Rebekah arched her back and bucked her hips against his and they both groaned. Seeking friction against his jean clad erection, she lost herself to the sensations and emotions that only he could bring out in her.

The cool linen of the table touched Rebekah's back and the table creaked as Marcel climbed over her and kissed her forehead in a gesture that brought tears to her eyes. He hovered over her, parting her legs and he kissed first her right eyelid and then her left eyelid and finally her lips in a sensual battle of their tongues. Rebekah pulled his shirt over his head, her hands roaming over the smooth skin on his back as their tongues tangoed.

"Rebekah, I figured you would need a—oh my God!"

Marcel and Rebekah froze and scrambled apart, Marcel facing away from both Rebekah and their intruder. Rebekah hopped off the table, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Caroline, Rebekah's sister-in-law, said sheepishly, amusement glittering in her eyes. "Your mother said you might need a ride home." She glanced around Rebekah, a smirk on her face. "Hey, Marcel." Marcel grunted and waved a hand, still facing away from the women.

Over come with the realization of what they had almost occurred, Rebekah ran past Caroline to where Caroline's car was parked outside. As usual, she had done what she did best. As she buckled herself into the passenger seat, Rebekah knew she didn't want to face Marcel anymore than he probably wanted to face her. Listening to her brother's snores coming from the backseat, she decided that returning to New Orleans had been her second worst idea ever.

A.N. Be sure to let me know what you think. This is the first time I've written something like this.


	5. Chapter 5

A.N. Happy Belated Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate and happy last Thursday to those of who don't! I was so touched by all the great reviews that I received for the last chapter I almost cried! Thank you to those of you who reviewed and to my guests who reviewed, I wish I could reply to you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It's shorter than the other chapters but I promise to make up to you guys with the next one. ;)

Chapter 5

"Is the reason you're killing yourself because you want to fuck my sister?" Marcel snorted. He knew he could count on Klaus to bring up Rebekah.

Truthfully, ever since the day before when he had almost had sex with Rebekah—on top of a table no less—he had been kicking himself in the ass. He got up the next morning after a night of crappy sleep only to work himself—and the ever present lust—out at the gym.

"No," he said panting as he continued his arm curls. "I do _not_ want to fuck your sister." Which was essentially true.

He wanted to make love to Rebekah. Slowly. All night. Until she begged him to stop or keep going. First he kissed the arch of her foot, then the birthmark on the inside of her knee, and then…

Marcel threw down the weights in frustration and stalked off to the treadmill. "Oi! Wait up!" Klaus called after him.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Marcel asked without bothering to turn around. He began walking on the treadmill.

"Put myself on bereavement leave." Klaus owned his own art gallery so he was able to do so.

In the wake of Rebekah's return and their subsequent drama, Marcel had almost forgotten about the reason she came back in the first place. Finn's death was a sad thing and was especially inconvenient for Marcel with Rebekah's presence. Marcel couldn't fault her for showing up to her brother's funeral. However, Marcel could blame himself for his inability to resist her. But hindsight is twenty/twenty and Marcel had never been able to help himself when it came to Rebekah Mikaelson. It didn't help that despite being three years older, she hadn't changed a bit. She was _perfect, _all smooth skin and supple curves, straight blonde hair and full lips. Despite everything that had occurred between them, the desire he had for her had not changed. If she wasn't the person he was supposed to spend forever with, she was definitely his _sexual _soul mate.

Klaus stood next to the treadmill looking worried, not a common look for Niklaus Mikaelson. "Don't you think that maybe you should—"

"Don't start, Klaus." Marcel held up a hand and amped up the speed of the treadmill.

"All I'm saying, mate, is that you and Rebekah should make this separation official."

"Divorce is not an option for me. You know that."

"Are you holding out hope that she'll see you and change her mind? Because I can just tell you that the chances of that happening are bloody slim."

Marcel glared at him. It was times like this that Marcel questioned why he was friends with Klaus. He stopped the treadmill. "Listen to me. I'm not holding out for anything. I just…" Marcel struggled to find the words. "I can't let this go without figuring out why she left in the first place."

Klaus' face grew stony and Marcel knew he had touched a nerve. Right after Rebekah had left, Klaus had placed heavy blame on Marcel and though he wasn't fully aware of her reasoning, Marcel had blamed himself as well. This led to a strain between the friends, but they were practically brothers; so they let bygones be bygones with the unstated rule that they didn't speak about Rebekah. But deep down, even though Klaus never said it, Marcel knew that the family knew why Rebekah had left and that a part of it had something to do with him.

"I'm just trying to save you both from heartache," Klaus spat. "I say you both end this and move the fuck on with your lives." Klaus then stormed away, his stride long and angry.

Marcel just sighed. Things were definitely a mess.

* * *

Things could not have gotten any worse. After what Rebekah had dubbed 'the table incident' and her sequential escape, she had endured Caroline's knowing smirks and spent the night beating herself up about her weakness for men. Particular, dark skinned, indescribably sexy men, who wore arse-hugging jeans and cologne that made her head spin.

Sitting on the front porch of her childhood home, the rain coming down heavily, Rebekah questioned the decisions that led her to where she was. What would have happened if she had stood her ground and stayed? Would she and Marcel have fixed things? Would they have had _children_? The image of a little baby boy with his nose and her eyes entered her mind and a pang of grief hit her. She wanted—no _needed_—that. She wanted her happily ever after.

A creak on the porch had Rebekah whipping her head around to the intruder. Caroline had joined her outside, two mugs in her hand. She handed one to Rebekah as she sat in the swing next to her. The aroma of Earl Gray tea swirled from the mug to her nose and Rebekah gave Caroline a grateful smile.

"You're up early," Caroline commented. Rebekah shrugged noncommittally.

"Couldn't sleep. There's just too much on my mind."

"Does any of it have to do with what I walked in on yesterday?"

Rebekah took a sip of coffee to stall. "That among other things."

Caroline sighed and turned to face Rebekah, tucking her legs underneath her. "It's okay to still love him, Bekah." Rebekah closed her eyes as if to block out Caroline's words, but it didn't stop the pang in her heart at the _rightness_. "You guys have history. You've loved him ever since you were a little girl." Caroline paused, hesitating to say what she really thought. "You know you're going to have to tell him eventually, right? Whether you take Esther's advice and divorce him or not, he has the right to know."

Rebekah felt her face flush with anger at Caroline's words. "He made his decision quite clear back then Caroline. He forfeited any rights to question me when he chose." She stood to go inside, the tranquility of the moment ruined with Caroline's inquiries.

But it seemed that Caroline had to have the last word. "You don't have to be strong all the time or run from your problems. It's okay to be vulnerable, Bekah." Rebekah paused, Caroline's words once again hitting where it hurt. She continued her trek inside, slamming the door behind her. Because it wasn't okay to be vulnerable; being vulnerable got you hurt in the end.

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